Paradigm Shift
here he is again
looking back, seeing the pictures of
some friends babysitting
grandsons and
granddaughters
he is taken to far places
by his mind
and then he looks inside telling
himself,
'i'll cross the bridge when i get there
i am different
i am strong
and i am not following their paths
i have my own place under the sun
and i am happy
facing myself in my
mirror'
he shifts his gaze to an island
where once he planted all those
green coconut trees
full of nuts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To A Nephew
it is upon my calling that you are here today.
i am very happy.
i am seeing a very tall man now
towering like a tree.
look at this place this island
the flowers no longer bloom
and the trees are shedding off their leaves
the corn seeds that i have sown a month ago
have not grown
and the river on the other side has dried up
the sun scorches this place
and the moon does not like to rest on the hills
let me take you to the window of this house
for you to see the rainbow connecting this island
to another island
this is the bridge between us
and i am giving you the power to cross the sea
of this rift
tonight in this harrowing darkness
we shall cross to the other side and leave this island for good
you shall own the island and sow the corn seeds again
the trees shall bow before you and the flowers shall bloom again
the rivers shall have their water and the hills are ready for the moon
and then i will be gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Graduation Day
The more I look back on all the happy times
the easier it is for me to realize
that friends are much more then hellos and goodbye
it all comes down to what you have inside.
Yes, some are good singers and some are athletic
but that doesnt matter (are you starting to get it?)
all that is important is the feeling inside
if your white or black or green or blue eyed.
For me to sit and say 'I wont miss this old place'
is wrong and untrue (cant you tell in my face?)
all the frinds and teachers meant so much to me
I dont know any place that i'd rather be.
'Those were the days', I'd here my parents say.
charish there years...each and everyday
The people you'll meet and the places you'll go
and the hurt once thats gone is more then you'll know.
All my friends will be leaving and i'll still be here
All my friends i'll be losing is my greatest fear
Promise you wont forget me as you go away,
promise you'll be back to see me someday!
poem by Katie Evans
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How can I empty My Mind?
Came out that emptiness,
Bored of what I was,
Looking at the atom shining somewhere in me,
I looked at wonderful world I entered,
Looking at beauties with beautiful faces,
I was only the faceless,
Wished to have a face!
Result is what I am now,
Facing problems of having a face,
Not seen by myself!
Some say look into mirror,
But mirror showed image which is not me,
How can live this is me looking at image?
In the path I met some one,
They said ' you suffered a lot,
Empty your mind, be happy, '
But how can empty my mind,
So many fill it everyday,
Hungry faces,
thirsty minds,
Needy hands fill compassion,
lusty and greedy, selfish and cruel fill
people fill pain,
Wise one fill wisdom,
Fools fill laughter,
Friends fill it with love and smile!
How can I empty my mind,
When beauty around,
Smiling kids, playing puppies,
Jumping and running kittens,
colourful fragrant flowers,
Surrounded by bees and butterflies,
Green trees with wide hands full of fruits,
All call me to enjoy with them!
Tall standing trees and stubborn mountains,
lakes and oceans full of life,
they fill my mind as much I empty, more they fill!
I emptied mind in meditation,
But the beauty of one who filled beauty in all filled my mind,
How can empty love for that beautiful one,
Who is that beauty in all that's beautiful!
Smiling and loving people,
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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So I have four daughters, about ten granddaughters, and five grandsons.
The visit
Cousin Salud, this visit is brief
We would rather be concise about what we really want to say
But there is no way to be blunt
About our common miseries, your children not bearing any
Children while we too, have survived the years without
Knowing how a baby cries, how the diapers would have to be
Changed, how we blamed our past and forefathers about their mistakes their sins imputed to us
So we have our present state-of-affairs
Pasted on our skins and foreheads
I’ll take a bottle of beer in exchange for the joke
Of infertilities, how the egg and the sperm never meet
And how the uterus does not want any organism to sleep
On its bed, well we do not really mind
The misery that we think we have
It exists only in your mind
This visit will be brief and we would rather be concise
With what we really want to say
We are not miserable, we live the life of the sojourners
The palmers the pilgrims we travel a lot with nothing to carry
In our back, except this digital camera that clicks and clicks
You see, we always wear our smiling faces
Behind us are the shadows of green hills
On the side are the blue seas and coconut trees
If you can only see what is facing us
You will be glad
They are our friends cheering us telling us always
To smile and say Cheez!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It's On Again
[Verse 1:]
The places brings back memories
as I walk by quiet streams
The caress of a wind blowing over me brings a chill to my skin
Whispers that go through the trees
And a hush comes over me
No way to fight the rush
Can't escape how we touch
[Bridge:]
As the cherry blossoms I slowy start
to remince the love we made
I can feel you in my arms
Gotta run to you
[Hook:]
I keep having these visions of you
Breaking me off like a lover should do
Remember the love that we made in the rain.
Then it's on again.
Video plays all over my body.
I hope sex is all over your mind
The catches may change but the secret's the same and it's on again
[Verse 2:]
The secret place you touched me in are unforgetable ain't no way I can ease all the visions of you
Our love's so unbelievable
You touched me softly, deeply like a woman needs
All I want, all I breathe even though I am...
[bridge]
[hook]
[Verse 3:]
Walking through quiet places brings back memories of the love we shared.
(remember that time by the waterfall)
Lost in those faded pictures (faded pictures)
Sexy whispers and then I know it's on again.
I know it's on again...
[hook]
song performed by by Olivia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paco De Lucia In Guitar Strings
the guitar strings of paco de lucia
are not new to me
the sound of his spanish guitar
strumming on my mind
they were with me
in my childhood
with my friends
we get a smooth
long and strong
coconut palm
take it on top
of a hill
covered with green
carabao grass
and we ride
on the palm
slide it
on the hill
and
yehey
yehehey
yehey yehey
we laugh
so hard
my little
brown friends
that
the foreign
white visitors
call monkeys
we take
the coconut palm
on top of the hill
we ride on it
and we slide
on the
hill
green
with
carabao grass
grass
yehey
yehehey
yehey
we tumble
and roll
when we
reach the
foot of the hill
covered with
green
carabao
grass
we
crash
there may
be some bruises
on our arms
and
legs
but we
laugh
we enjoy
the sliding
the falling
the crashing
on the green
green
carabao
grass
we
crash
yehey
yehehey
yehehey
we are
the happy
little brown
monkeys
yehey
yehehey
yehey
we are
happy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Gambler
the gambler one day
while sitting on a chair facing the sea watching the sunset
looks at the poet
like him alone on a worship of the fading day
wondering what was it that keeps
digging inside his heart
the gambler starts a conversation telling the poet that he envies his
solitude
his grace with the use of the words
his beauty and his
journey along the paths of
the spiritual and
the divine communion with God
the poet is not amazed and takes a simple gaze
at the gambler's face
he give the gamble a little smile
telling him
nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For Papa Gregorio
And then I finally reached
The narrow mouth of the river
That you told me about
And I was left with no choice
But to sail right there
On this wooden boat that you
Left me
I did it and here I am getting on
The sight of an island
A bountiful island with brooks
And green grass and
Coconut trees and
Lanzones trees
I am here finally
In accordance with the maps of your dreams
And tonight
I look at your sky
And I see the hundred smiles
Of your glittering stars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shallow Thoughts...
along the shores
where the salty vines have covered our tracks
the coconuts are growing tall
and being so nearly planted
their leaves reach for each other
in a little distance
the heaps of dry leaves and husks
make a mountain
and now covered by the vines
and so concealed
beyond this place is a grass-less space
it is where most of the strangers stay
the mass of people gather
and bask under the sun
the gates here are closed more often
there are no kids
neither are there old people who take
their leisure here
this is my own place
so private and so deserted
i would like to call it another solitude
but the coconut trees without nuts
on this rainy December
signify otherwise
it is lonely, the hut speaks.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bridge
The bridge I walk every morning plays games with my fantasies-
The water that runs beneath could be some magical ocean-
Leading to a place unknown-
When I look upwards towards the sky
My imagination carries me to some distant island in the heavens
Where I can be myself and there is nobody there to
Plan my life or to rule my thoughts-
To live my life as I please has always been my fondest dream-
And if only this bridge I walk every morning
Would take me to that place of my utmost reverie-
Spring shall arrive in less than two days- I can think of tales in books about
The arrival of spring- longer days to come, and
The awakening of the supernatural- although
Sad to say that this bridge I walk everyday
Takes me to the same familiar place-
Though I can find beauty in blossoming crocuses, daffodils and forsythia,
I find myself living in the same world, place and time- though
In my thoughts I live in another realm,
And travel across a different bridge that shall take me to that kingdom in the sky-
There I can live with the saints and angels everybody speaks of, in this place where I
Become my own person and can just be myself-
With no one present to control my destiny-
The bridge I walk every morning takes me to a place I have deemed as
Nowhere land- although I do not intimately know the people there
I see them every day passing by, knowing
That they are none but ordinary beings
With ordinary thoughts and minds-
I have built a bridge inside of the territory of my mind
That leads me towards my own magical “land of oz”-
And that is where I live every time I find myself in solitude-
Inside of a world unreal to all but very real to me- until that time of day when
I must return to civilization and reality- here I tell myself
I shall die one day and cross that bridge of my fantasies and
Become a saint or an angel myself looking down from the heavens
Upon this world where I once lived and can now laugh and sigh happily- because
Nobody shall ever control my thoughts again –
I have won my battle against veracity- good dreams are known to be
The essence of everyone’s bliss and I have left all of my nightmares behind-
Happy to call myself a dreamer as I have crossed that bridge from
Past to present and then journeyed to a future free from fear and apprehension-
And I have become free to know there will never be any turning back…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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That Afternoon
i was there again
standing by the side of the old
glass windows
hazy because of the dust
it is hazy, hazy
the sea is linen white
the coconut trees as tall as they are very old
planted perhaps before the war
before the Japanese came
and ravished the spirits of our innocent people
i was there again
standing on a moment
always seeing
that rusty van parked
without its front wheel
nobody from there is asking
what is happening
it is hazy, as hazy as dusts
on that old glass window
then a black bird flies through
it breaking the thin old glass
into shattered pieces
the afternoon ended
on that sudden noise
i am telling you
i am not shocked because
i am not new to this
how can i be? i am as old and as
tall as that coconut tree
i am from this place
and i know each grain of sand
on the shore
of that white linen sea.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broken Images, Distorted Views
Every mirror tells a tale,
My mirror is a memory I do not wish to tell
Eery reflection has a story yet to be told,
They say the mirror never lies, but that's all my mirror ever sold
Look Into the reflective piece of glass, that mirror, pool or lake,
Gaze into the lie and realise that it's fake
Oh you look so classy in the mirror, but take a look inside,
Your body spins a different song, there's things your eyes can not hide,
Now I use a different mirror, one that doesn't lie,
Mirror Mirror in the sky, look down in judgement from up high
Give me the facts, tell me the truth,
Strip away the layers of lies, right back to my youth,
The image I see in the mirror is not good enough, it just won't do,
The person starring back is perfect, but I'm just not you.
poem by Ralph Acosta
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Broken Images, Distorted Views
Every mirror tells a tale,
My mirror is a memory I do not wish to tell
Eery reflection has a story yet to be told,
They say the mirror never lies, but that's all my mirror ever sold
Look Into the reflective piece of glass, that mirror, pool or lake,
Gaze into the lie and realise that it's fake
Oh you look so classy in the mirror, but take a look inside,
Your body spins a different song, there's things your eyes can not hide,
Now I use a different mirror, one that doesn't lie,
Mirror Mirror in the sky, look down in judgement from up high
Give me the facts, tell me the truth,
Strip away the layers of lies, right back to my youth,
The image I see in the mirror is not good enough, it just won't do,
The person starring back is perfect, but I'm just not you.
poem by Phil Whittaker
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Paradise
Slipped into sleep.Mind got into whirls.
What a fantastic place mine was!
River Varaha from the western hills
Into my village bifurcating north and south!
Mango orchards, coconut groves, crossed streets with
Two water-falls, two hillocks and my school
All in order on one bank, very chill.
A big tank sorrounded with paddy fields
Green swarded with dayfull iciness
On the other bank along with big temples
Civil court, elementary school, post-office,
Cinema theatres, hospital, and 'agraharam'houses.
In my vista are the cows back home
After grazing over a grassy roam.
'Aadu paalam'(dancing bridge) is shakily strong.
'Pudhu paalam'(new bridge) widens very strong.
Ah, my music master with his syllables
'SaRiGaMaPaDhaNi'..'hey, hey! 'I'm nudged
To answer Paradise, Paradise, Paradise!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Bacelli’s Walnut Tree
Bacelli’s Walnut Tree
Not far the corner of my home's knee
Just some yards above the road
Stands on its glory the Big Walnut Tree
Branched right and left over the road
As the years jump on line and the clock ticks
I can see through the epochs and curtain blinds
Babies being born, marriages, deaths, wars and miseries
Misfortunes and happiness experienced by Bacellis
This Big Walnut Tree, the old sincere angel
The witness so fair for a hundred years.
I often come back to this Walnut Tree
I kneel and pray in silence
As a great grandmother in need
I ate the tasty nuts of this tree
As my father, my pop did once
All of them fellows Bacelli
Yes, indeed my sons will try them too
My granddaughters and grandsons
The Walnut Tree fetches, embraces all generations
Keeping inside the live ones and protecting the dead Bacellis
When my father was gone and buried
The Walnut Tree joined me in grieving
Fruit stalled, tears dropped
No leaves, no flowers, no nuts, all disappeared
The Walnut Tree nearly did perish
It dried and vanished like a storm turning greyish
Other times the Big Walnut Tree shed tears
Three times, when Bacellis' house scorched on skies
Humbled disappearing fast through sparkling fires
The Big Walnut Tree of Bacellis
It's my home, my shelter and my roof
When I need to go back to my roots
To meet Bacellis and the dead ones that I miss
On my troubled days of New York
For crashed sweet nuts in my bag I check
With my finger I touch the exquisite silk
Of my Big Walnut Tree at home back
poem by Agim Bacelli
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The Barrio In The South
the green waters rise
to rinse the roots of the coconut trees
the lilies float
the ripples carry them to a joyful journey
to the banks of the river
where the children play
this is the place that you miss
an island a hut a river
the peace and quiet
of the ipil-ipil leaves
showering when the wind passes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At The Beach On A Sunday Morning
this is an isolated place
the coconut trees are growing uninterrupted
by the talisay trees long ago cut by papa
fenced by barbed wires and planted with carabao grass
this is one thing that sometimes i miss in my life
the molave gate is left open
for the caretaker knows that i am coming
to spend my sunday here...
i told them that i prefer being alone this time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Someone Like You
Midnight falls on the snow-lit trees
and as I stand inside I know that I
can't watch life through a window
my indecision is blocking the door
it's like a religion
that I never ask for more
I might stumble and fall
What's someone like me
doing in a life like this?
I can't see
what someone like me
is doing in a life like this
slipping back into the past
Sun comes up and streams
through the blinds
and as I throw my clothes on
do my hair wrong
stare into my mirror
telling myself that everyone falls
take the first step
that's the trick of it all
bounce back like a ball
What's someone like me
doing in a life like this?...
My mind is filled with
runaway dreams
I can't wake up
I don't know what it means
you see I fell asleep
with the television on
when I woke up it was gone
I read my horoscope
to see what's in store
I get a little lazy but
I want more
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper from Hat Full Of Stars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turn
Seeing things, going places
Living out of suitcases
Everyday's like a dream
I find myself talking to shadows
Taking the train of youth back home again
'Cause I don't wanna be a hero
But I don't wanna be a zero
And I don't wanna sit here wasting time
I just want a place inside your mind
I wish that I could turn the clocks right back
It's easy to forget just what you've got
Seeing things, going places
Meeting all kinds of faces
Every day's like a scene
I find myself going through phases
Trying to find somewhere that I can be me
'Cause I don't wanna be your hero
But I don't wanna be a zero
But I don't wanna sit here wasting time
I just want a place inside you mind
I wish that I could turn the clocks right back
It's easy to forget just what you've got
I'm not trying to find an easy way
Picking up the pieces of a page
I'm looking for a place inside you're mind
'Cause I don't wanna leave it all behind
So come on, give in
There's no beauty in this pain
So come on, connect
We've gotta find ourselves again
'Cause I don't wanna be your hero
And I don't wanna sit here wasting time
I just want a place inside you're mind
I wish that I could turn the clocks right back
It's easy to forget just what you've got
I'm not trying to find an easy way
Picking up the pieces of the page
I'm looking for a place inside you're mind
'Cause I don't wanna leave it all behind
And I don't wanna sit here wasting time
I just want a place inside you mind
I wish that I could turn the clocks right back
It's easy to forget just what you've got
I'm not trying to find an easy way
Thinking of the pieces of the page
I'm looking for a place inside you're mind
'Cause I don't wanna leave it all behind
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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